Happy Keeper Games!
by AmandaKK1524
Summary: "I know what must be done. So I, as best I can, take confident strides after the girl and say the four words that are the ultimate sacrifice: 'I volunteer as Tribute'" When the Kingdom Keepers crossover, they end up in Walt Disney World, right? What happens when they cross over into Panem, at the Reapings for the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games? T for being the Hunger Games
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey! Okay, here's something new—I got a request to do a Kingdom Keepers/Hunger Games Crossover. Soooo…here it is! Let me know what you think! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Keepers, Hunger Games, or the Nutella company. But I do own three different Peeta posters! …heheh…not obsessive at all…**

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—Prologue—

It was their usual routine. Get up, go to school, come home, homework, dinner, cross over. But something was different about crossing over this time. Instead of entering the Walt Disney World Parks, they saw…an open space, filled with the looks of terrified children. And there was…a stage…with lights and two huge screens, one on each side. And, on the stage, were two glass bowls filled with white paper slips. _What's with that?_ Everything was dismal, bland, and dreary; browns and grays and the broken-down looks of things just looked…dystopian. The men and women in white full-body armor and the odd, flamboyantly dressed woman in bright colors on the stage gave away their exact location: Panem.

* * *

Willa's POV

The first thing I thought when I crossed over was, _"What?"_ I had no idea where the heck I was. I looked around for any of the other Keepers, but I only saw the bright red head of hair standing about fifty feet away from me. Knowing it was Philby, I walked over to him to find out what was going on. But…he wasn't wearing the usual black attire for crossing over. I looked down at myself. Neither was I. We were wearing outfits that looked somewhat from the Great Depression. Pastel greens, pinks, yellows, and blues filled the crowd's wardrobe. All the girls were either wearing dresses or skirts, and the boys wore a dress shirt and slacks. I scanned the crowd. Boys on one side girls on the other, with parents and smaller children near the back. The groups of boys and girls in the front looked about the ages from twelve to eighteen, but…

That's when I knew what was going on. It was the Reaping for the Hunger Games. No no no no no no no…this couldn't be happening! Where were the others? Were they in different Districts? Why couldn't we be in Disney World, fighting off the Overtakers? …Well, either way, someone will be trying to kill me.

"Willa!" Philby called out to me. I rushed the remaining way over to him.

"Philby, this is _not_ good."

"Why? Where are we? What's happening? Where's everyone else?"

"You ever seen _Hunger Games?_ Or read it?"

"No. What's going on?"

"Philby, we're at the Reaping. It's where they pick one boy and one girl to fight to the death against twenty three other people. And we have to be here—it's the law."

"So…what are we gonna do?" He said, surprisingly calm.

I sighed. "I guess that we hope that we aren't reaped. No matter what happens—if either one of us is reaped, or the other isn't—we don't volunteer. At least one of us should be able to escape with our lives." He agreed with me. "We should get going," I said, "Meet me here afterwards."

He gave a curt nod and walked over to sign in. I did the same. I waited in line to get my finger pricked. I thought about how many times my name was in there. I was fourteen, so three times, unless I took tesserae. Wait…if I just now got to Panem, did I take tesserae or not…? Nevermind. I had no time to think, since the escort had just entered the stage.

"Welcome! Welcome, welcome. Happy Hunger Games! And, may the odds be _ever_ in your favor," she said with her thick Capitol accent. "Now, before we begin, we have a very special film brought to you all the way from the Capitol!" We turned our attention towards the screen, where President Snow's voice filled the speakers, narrating the Propaganda Film.

"Now, the time has come to select one courageous young man and woman for the honor of representing District 3 in the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games."

Huh. I guess we're in District 3. Cool! I'm from the technology District!

"As usual," she continued, "boys first."

Wait, what? I thought it's ladies first!

She dug her hand deep into the bowl, and, with a flick of her wrist, dramatically pulled her hand out, now occupied with a single paper slip. The click of her heels on the stage echoed out through the crowd. My heart beat fast. A thousand questions ran through my mind: What if that's Philby's name? What if it's not? What if he volunteers? What if I'm next? What if I go without him? There was a knot in my stomach that wouldn't cease to stop aching. I felt as if I were going to get sick, no matter whose name it was. They were going to be slaughtered. I felt weak as the escort opened the slip of paper. All my muscles went limp and I almost fell over as she read with excitement…

"Dell Philby!"

My head snapped over to look at him. I saw him cringe and start breathing faster as he slowly made his way to the stage. Beads of sweat started forming on his forehead and upper lip, while his whole body shook.

"And, now, for the girls," the escort said, wanting to get this Reaping over with. She walked more quickly and didn't take as much time picking a name out of the glass bowl.

"Thalia Pearson!"

I heard a loud gasp from right beside me. It was a girl's, about twelve years old. All heads turned towards her. Her bottom lip quivered and face turned red.

"Well, come on up!" the escort said, encouraging her to come up to the stage.

Thalia took small, shaky steps toward the stage. Right then, I knew what must be done. There was an inner part of me that said, "_Do it. You have to."_ But another part of me willed for the easy way out: say goodbye to Philby, and watch the Games like the rest of the District. But I couldn't let him do this alone. And that poor little girl. Her first Reaping, and she's most likely going to die in the bloodbath. She's got her whole life ahead of her. I know what must be done. So I, as best I can, take confident strides after the girl and say the four words that are the ultimate sacrifice: "I volunteer as Tribute!"

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**A/N: There it is! Hope you liked it! More to come! Oh, and…**

**Please review! First crossover story. Oh, and don't worry. Katniss and Peeta, and Rue, and the Career pack will all be in here, too! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Yay! I got good reviews for chapter one! Thanks so much, guys! Special thanks to Mandy, who inspired an awesome kick-butt Amanda. You is awesome. :)**

**Oh, and I'm doing all the reapings for all the seven KK's. Here's Finn and Amanda's. Then I'll do Jess's, then Charlene and Maybeck's. I'm done now. Tshank ewe. :) **

Amanda POV

Whoa. Wha—? Where are we? What's happening? Where is everyone? Why is everyone depressed? We're in Disney World! Wait…

No, we're not.

I'm surrounded by a huge group of girls, and there's a similar group, but of boys, on my left. What's going on? Ugghhh…if only Willa and Philby were here…they know everything.

A woman, wearing a shade of yellow so bright that I think it'll blind my eyes, is on the stage.

She says, "Now! It's time to select our female tribute to compete for District 4 in the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games!"

Oh no.

The woman daintily reaches her hand in a glass bowl, filled to the top with paper slips, and takes the _longest_ amount of time picking a name. I wish she'd just hurry up. I'm bound to pass out if she doesn't move it along. But, as the odds are _never_ in our favor as Keepers, I know that it's most likely going to be my name, but I'm hoping that it's not.

She gives a sigh of excitement, "Amanda Lockhart!"

I knew it.

I take a deep breath, hold my chin up high and walk to the stage. If I'm going into this, I don't want to be weak, do I?

Everyone claps as I'm on the stage. What's with these people?! Don't they know I'm about to go die? Oh, yeah. District 4 is one of the Careers.** They've trained for the Games. But I haven't. Oh, well. Maybe kicking OT butt counts as training.

Now, it's time to find out which of my fellow Keepers will be joining me in our death sentence.

"Lawrence Whitman!"

No. Anyone but Finn! I don't want him in the Games!

But I can't help but smile a little. He's probably seething at the use of his real name.

The escort makes us shake hands and Finn gives me a sad smile. I return the smile and whisper, so that only he can hear, "We're gonna be okay."

…o…o…o…

We then go to separate rooms in the Justice Hall, where we're supposed to have visitors to say their goodbyes. Mine, however, is uneventful. I don't know anyone, so I have to sit there for an hour, thinking out a strategy. I'm unsuccessful for the longest amount of time, until it hits me like a ton of bricks: Act like a Career. You're from a Career District, Amanda. Act like it.

After what seems like ages, the escort, well, _escorts_ us to a car that's supposed to take us to the train station to go to the Capitol. She climbs in between me and Finn, making us squished and feeling awkward. She babbles on and on about how great the Capitol is and how we can bring pride to our District. We finally get on the train and are shown our living quarters for the trip to the Capitol. Finn and I go to the main room/dining room, where we're supposed to meet with our mentor for the Games.

"Let's hope this guy isn't like Haymitch," I say quietly to Finn.

"Trust me," a voice says. "I'm nothing like Haymitch."

I look up and see a face that I thought I'd never get to see in my life.

Finnick Odair.***

I draw in a sharp breath of air, start bouncing in my seat, and kind of slapping Finn out of excitement.

"You're—You're Finnick Odair!" Huh. Now I know why Willa freaks out over book characters. 'Cause they're hot.

"The one and only," He says with a friendly smirk.

"You—uhmm—you wouldn't happen to have any sugar cubes, would you?" I ask, blushing.

"Here, catch!" he says, tossing a sugar cube towards me.

I catch it, pop it in my mouth, and start slapping Finn again. "He really does carry sugar cubes everywhere!"

Finnick laughs and walks over to another part of the room.

Finn says in a hushed voice, "Amanda, you being my girlfriend, I don't really appreciate you freaking out over this 'Finnick Odair.'"

I roll my eyes. "Finn, Finnick is a fictional character. He doesn't really exist."

Finnick looked over at us with a face that could only be described as: o_O

"Uhh," Finnick said, "For the record, I can assure you that I am _totally_ and _completely _real!"

I give a nervous chuckle and can't help but…stare at him. I know, sounds stalker-ish, but he's _really_ hot!

"What?" Finnick says, giving me the same smirk. "Do you find this…" he strikes a cheesy pose, "Distracting?"

I, of course, laugh my butt off, remembering that hilarious line from _Mockingjay_ that Willa told me about.

Finn looks annoyed, so Finnick comes over.

"Dude, you look so tense! I know what'll make you feel better." Finn groans and rolls his eyes after Finnick says…

"Want a sugar cube?"

**A/N: Annnnnddd SCENE! How'd you like it? Yeah, this one's a bit less serious than the last chapter. But I'm SORRY it's so short! **

**REVIEW! Ya'll are awesome! :) **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I KNOW I haven't updated in forever! It's been almost a month! But I don't really have a good excuse. I had the flu, and was at home for a day, so I could've written, but it probably would have been crap cuz I couldn't think straight. Yuppers… **

**Thank you soooo much for all the great reviews last chapter! It means a lot. :) Oh, and I know last chapter wasn't the greatest, but I'll try to make them better! Yuppers…so here be chapter three!**

Jess's POV

I blink rapidly, and shudder, trying to get rid of that DHI-crossover tingling in my limbs. My head spins in all directions, trying to figure out where I am.

Wait.

This seems…familiar. I mean, my dream last night about the Keepers being in the Hunger Games might—

Oh, no. That's what it meant? That all the Keepers would _actually_ be in the Hunger Games? I thought it was just one of my chocolate muffin-induced crazy dreams from too much sugar before bed. But this is real, and I might have been able to prevent it. If I had only told Philby not to cross us over tonight, and had shown them my sketch, this might not have happened. And, again, it's my fault. As usual.

"Jessica Lockhart!" a voice booms throughout the crowd, people around me, sighs of relief escaping them.

I let out a whimper and stiffen with fear. I don't move, and look around, hoping to blend in with the crowd, looking for me.

"Jessica Lockhart!" The escort calls out again, and, with the mumbling growing trying to find this "Jessica Lockhart," my heart pounds even harder. I exhale, and with shaking knees, wobbly walk up to the stage.

The escort reaches into the bowl, pulling out the boy's name.

"Robert Bernowski."

No.

This can't be happening. _Rob? Of all people? _Does he remember anything about our past? Even so, at least I can torture him in these Games. I can get revenge on him. This is gonna be sweet.

He walks up to the stage, cocky as ever. He has the same evil twinkle in his eyes as he did when we were dating. I scowl at him, and when we shake hands I twist his wrist until I see him grimace in pain. I know, I'm being cruel, but he deserves it.

We walk into our separate rooms in the Justice Hall, and I flop down into a chair, and start thinking about the dream I had about this mess. Why hadn't I said anything. I screwed up. I'm not exactly sure how I'm feeling. I'm just…angry at myself, but most of all, I just wanted my friends. I knew that they were here, in different districts, but I wanted Amanda there to hug me and tell me it was going to be alright, Charlene to talk with, Willa to play Ninja with, and Maybeck to smack when he annoys me. I wiped a rogue tear trickling down my cheek, using one of the tissues provided on a nearby table.

I check my reflection in a mirror, making sure that my eyes weren't bloodshot from crying, but I had noticed the difference in my appearance: makeup-free face, Great Depression-style floral dress, and slightly curly hair. At that moment, someone opens the door, coming to see me. It's a visitor, which is strange, seeing that I know no one in this district.

"You're Jess, right?" the woman says.

"Um, yeah…" I say, eyes averting her gaze, falling to the floor.

She sticks her hand out towards me. "Johanna Mason. Your mentor."

Ahh. I remember her. Willa's talked about her when she's reading the second and third books.

"Hi, Johanna," I say meekly.

She gives me a half-smirk, relaxing herself into the couch across the room.

We sit in a silence for a minute, until I blurt out the question:

"How did you do it?"

Johanna sits up from her slouching position. "What?"

"The Games. How did you win?"

"I acted weak. Then, when the time came, I showed my viscous side."

I nod. The Peacekeepers come in and escort us out, and we eventually get in the train.

Rob and I sit side by side in the train. I glare at him. "Do you know who I am?" I ask suspiciously.

"Well," he says arrogantly, "I know that you're Jess, and you seem quite familiar to me."

"Good," I whisper. "That means I can kick your butt in these Games."

…O…O…O…

Willa's POV

Philby and I stand on the stage, and shake hands. I don't know what swept through me. Something told me that I had to volunteer, so I did.

Philby's eyes look at me in desperation. I give him a knowing look, but he won't buy any of it.

We're soon on the train, heading for the Capitol. Once our escort leaves us alone in the room, Philby blows up at me.

"What were you thinking Willa?! I thought we agreed that if you weren't reaped, you wouldn't go in!"

I get equally as angry. "What was I supposed to do? Let you go and get yourself killed? And just watch idly by with the rest of District 3?" I take a deep breath and calm down a bit. "Philby, I know how all this is going to go down. I've read the book seven times, I can help us. All seven of us. I can keep us alive. For _once_ I can actually be of help here." It felt good to get that off my chest.

"Willa, need I remind you that there can only be _one_ victor? We need to accept the fact that people are gonna die, and they might be us. Or, we might initiate some of the kills."

"Trust me," I say.

We have a short meeting with our mentor and escort during dinner, and he tells us the basics: don't show your strengths in weapons or survival, try to make alliances, the usual.

That night, I try to fall asleep, but I can't. I keep thinking about the other Keepers. If I'll ever see them again, if they're in the Games, too, and if I'll kill anybody. I need to get to a bow, but honestly, if the time comes for fight or flight, will I hesitate? Of course I will—someone's life is at my disposal. Flight would be necessary. The tendrils of sleep pull me under, and I dream of all us Keepers at the countdown at the Cornucopia, and then, there are the last few seconds of the countdown. Five…four…three…two…one…

**A/N: Sooo? What'd ya think? Concrit accepted and appreciated! Reviews are also greatly appreciated! You all is awesome. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Woot! New chapter! (Are ya'll excited?) :P This chapter might not be any good until the Tribute Parade, when I can start the **_**real**_** plot, since I can add in all the characters! You guys excited to get Katniss in there? Peeta? Or CATO? *fangirl screaming* Yuppers. I'm excited for Cato, too! **

**DISCLAIMER  
Do I look like I own HG? Or Kingdom Keepers? *whispers* Someday…**

Maybeck's POV

The first thing I notice as I cross over, is that we weren't in Disney World. Charlene was by my side; a crazy woman pushing us into a metal building. Oh, snap. Well, this is it. We've been captured within _seconds_ of us crossing over. Good job, Overtakers! All around us, I see a neon jungle of different fabrics and banners all around with the number eight on them. Charlene and I are led to a dining room, and we sit in chairs parallel to each other. A man dressed in nice clothes comes over to us. He looks a bit disheveled, wine glass in hand.

"What's going on?" Charlene asks, voice shaky.

The man looks up from his wine glass. "You delusional? This is the Hunger Games, sweetheart," He looks us up and down. "You," he says, pointing to Charlie, "Bloodbath. You," He points to me. "Eh, you might last a few days."

"W-What do you mean by 'bloodbath'?"

The man rolls his eyes. "You're gonna die, dollface."

I raise my eyebrows. Dollface. That's a new one.

Charlene starts having a mini panic attack—hyperventilating, getting teary and red-faced.

"Charlie," I try to coax her, "you're not gonna die; you're gonna be okay."

The man smirks. "Well, I guess my job here's done." He gets up and walks away.

"Maybeck," she says when she's calmed down, "we're gonna die."

"No we're not."

She gets upset again. "Maybeck! Did you not hear him? This is the _Hunger Games_. Do you even know what that is?!"

I try to lighten the mood. "We go eat some pie?"

Charlie smacks my arm. "This is serious! It's a fight to the death, and we don't know _anything_ about weaponry! Or hand-to-hand combat, or survival skills, or—"

She stops herself. "There's nothing we can do about this," she says solemnly.

I take her hand in mine as we got up from our chairs. "We're gonna be okay."

She looks down to the floor and nods, going into her room and leaving me standing there in the hallway. I can hear muffled sniffles from her room as I walk away.

In my room, I can't seem to find sleep. A thousand questions plague my mind: How will I survive? What weapon will I use? Will Charlene be okay? I toss and turn all night, waiting for the sun to rise. I begin to think about the train. Two hundred and fifty miles per hour, and you could barely feel a thing. I just hoped we could get there fast, so I could get off this train. That freaky woman barges into my room, squawking, "Get up, you worthless piece of junk!" Well, she didn't exactly say that, but since I was tired it felt like she said that.

I walk out of my bedroom, and see that Charlene has already helped herself to some breakfast, and is picking at her food, not looking extremely hungry.

"Good morning," I say to her, hoping to help her feel better.

She gives me a tiny smile. "Morning."

"How'd you sleep?" she shrugs her shoulders. Her hair stringy and eyes bloodshot with purple bags under them, I could tell she hadn't gotten much rest last night.

That man (whom I'm guessing is our mentor) is also at the table, swigging down the last gulp of some kind of alcoholic drink.

"So, what's the plan?" I ask him, hoping he'll give us some advice.

"Eh, just wing it," he says, and Charlene gets on her mad face, looking like she's about to strangle him.

"So that's it," she says, getting angrier by the second. "You're just gonna sit there and intoxicate yourself while we're sent to our death penalty? With or without your help, I am going to _fight. _ And fight _hard_." She says the last word slowly, seething with rage.

Our mentor smirks again. "Ahh. So the weakling's got some fire, huh, sweetheart?"

"I'm not a weakling," she says, glaring at him.

They get into an argument, when I spot a knife nearby on the table. I know how to end their quarreling quick.

Oh, no. Not like that. No one's gonna die. But if I remember what Willa had said to me a wile ago…

I grab the knife in my fist and bring it down hard on the table.

That freak woman gasps in horror. "That is CHERRYWOOD!"

Charlene stops her bickering and smiles a real smile for the first time since we got here.

Mission accomplished.

…O…O…O…

We get off the train and into the Remake Center where they torture you. It isn't fun. I think they might have killed me. Nope. Still here.

We then meet our stylists, and mine is yet _another_ freaky lady who puts me in _the_ most ridiculous outfit seen on the face of the earth. She ensured me that this was "one of her best creations yet!" If so, then she needs to be fired. Like, now.

I'm shoved into this freaky half-pink half-blue clown suit with a freakishly large hat that _might_ have contained a bird's nest. So…this is what true ridicule feels like?

I am led to a huge room with a bunch of other people dressed in costumes designed by whack jobs. I walk over to Charlene, who is dressed in a similar costume to mine.

"This is humiliating," she says, turning red.

"Tell me about it."

"Charlie!" someone screamed. I turned my head in the direction of the scream and see Willa running towards Charlene. They embrace, happily reunited.

"Are you okay?" Willa asks.

"I'm fine. Are you?"

Willa nods. "Have you seen any of the others?"

Charlene shakes her head.

Willa waves someone—I think it's Philby—over.

"You all alright?" he asks. We give him nods.

"Wanna start looking for the others?" I suggest. Nods all around. We start looking for Amanda and Finn and Jess. A laugh comes from Willa as she sees Amanda fangirling over Finnick, and and annoyed Finn handing sugar cubes to a horse.

"Yo, Finn!" I yell, waving to get his attention.

He runs over to us, leaving a lovesick Amanda with their mentor.

"Thank goodness you all are here. I didn't know if you guys had gone to Disney or what."

"We're all good," Charlene says. "What's up with Manda, though?"

"She's obsessed with this 'Finnick' dude," Finn spits out.

"Who _wouldn't _be?" Willa giggles and waves to Finnick. He gives her one of those hair-flip nods that "cool" people do.

Amanda spots us and rushes over, giving us all huge hugs.

"Oh my gosh, you have no idea how happy I am to see you guys! Have you seen Jess anywhere?" she asks hopefully.

"We're looking for her now, so if—" Philby was cut off by a squeal-ish scream from Willa.

"I-It's…PEETA MELLARK!" She _freaked _out. Then she ran over to him and asked him to sign her forehead….not weird _at all…_

After looking for several minutes, we find Jess, but she seems reluctant to come see us. What's that about?

She takes small, slow steps towards us, looking ashamed. Head hung low, she says, "Hi."

"Jess, what's wrong?" Amanda asks.

Jess's bottom lip starts to quiver, and a tear falls from her eye. She collapses into Amanda's arms, hugging her as if she'll never see her again.

"Jess, it's okay, I'm right here," Amanda says soothingly.

Jess pulls out a piece of paper from her pocket, and hands it to Finn.

"I'm sorry," is all she can say.

Finn's shocked expression as he looks at the paper makes her cry all the harder.

"I-I'm sorry. It's my fault. It's all my fault…"

Eventually I get to see what was on the paper: a sketch of us Keepers in the Hunger Games. She had dreamed it...

"Jess?" I ask.

"I should have said something. This could have not happened; we're all here because…because of me. Why do I have to put us in danger _all_ _the time?_"

"Jess—" Charlene says, coming over to comfort her.

"I didn't think it was real! I'm sorry."

"Jess," Philby says, "What's done is done. You don't have to say 'sorry' anymore. If we work together, we'll all be okay."

We're all called over to our prospective chariots so we can start the Tribute Parade. As we go through the huge gate, I'm welcomed by the blinding lights surrounding the path and the overwhelming roar of the cheering crowd.

**A/N: Whoo! You proud of me, Mandy? I finished! :)**

**Oh, don't worry. Story's not finished, though. Just this chapter. **

**I'm sorta gonna have Charlene and Maybeck's mentor be like Haymitch…yeah. :P**

**Reviews make me update faster!**

**SO REVIEW IF YOU WANT A CHAPTER SOON! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello my fine-feathered friends! It's Honey-Boo Boo here with your next chapter! NO! I'm kidding. It's me! Jess! Oh, you **_**don't**_** remember me? Ok, that's fine…**

**ON WITH THE STORY! I don't think I've seen tension between these two characters yet in the series. Although I do ship Jhilby (hi Mandy!) it might be fun to do some fighting-sorta-stuff in here…let's see how it goes! **

**DARK PASSAGE IS NEAR! WRITE IT ON YOUR NOTEBOOKS, FRIENDS, AND FOREHEADS! SPREAD THE WORDDDD**

Philby's POV

I wake up, blinded by the sunlight streaming through my window. Relief spreads through me, then quickly ceases, realizing that, in fact, I am not home. I'm still in Panem, in the Capitol. The Keepers' reunion last night before the Tribute Parade was unlike any of our previous meetings lately. It was solemn and dreadful, since we were cherishing what will most likely be our last days with each other. I think that Willa was definitely keeping us from freaking out. She claimed, and we all believed her, that she knew the story like the back of her hand. I chuckle to myself. I guess reading extensively pays off in strange, post-apocalyptic situations. We were taken to our separate floors by District—Willa and I on floor three, Finn and Amanda on floor four, Jess, whose partner I found out was Rob, on floor seven, and Charlene and Maybeck on floor eight. I do have to say that I am pretty livid with Jess for not telling us about her drawing. I know, she did say she was sorry, but I'm having a hard time forgiving her. I take notice of the outfit that has been laid out for me: black boots, black pants, and a black shirt with red and gray sleeves and a number "3" on the sleeves and back. I get dressed and venture my way out of my room and to the dining table. I take a seat next to Willa, dressed in an identical outfit, who's picking at the scrambled eggs on her plate.

"Good morning," she says to me, trying not to look worried, though I can tell she is.

"Morning," I give her a smile. "Guess what?" I say, trying to at least make her giggle, "You get to see Peeta again today!"

She laughs. "That was pretty weird. What happened at the Parade…" she trails off.

"When you asked him to sign your forehead?"

"Yes, that," she rolls her eyes.

We finish breakfast and our escort takes us down to the Training Center. We're greeted by Jess and Rob, who are the only people there right now. Jess looks awful—dark purple bags under her eyes, hair pulled into a messy ponytail, and fear dancing in her bright grey eyes. Willa gives a hug to her worried sister, assuring her that everything's gonna be okay and that we'll be alright. I can see that she's waiting for me to acknowledge her, so I give her a curt nod, and she does the same.

Have you ever seen those cartoons where the character has the angel on his right shoulder and the devil on his left? That's how I was feeling right now. A part of me said to forgive her—she wouldn't do this on purpose, and if she had, then she'd have been suicidal, which I highly doubt she is; and another part of me told me to show no mercy. To hold her completely and totally responsible for her actions. Told me not to forgive her.

"Phil?" Willa asks. "Can I talk to you over there for a sec?"

I nod and she takes me over to a part of the room where the other two couldn't hear us.

"What is _wrong _with you?" she asks me, full of fury.

"What did I do wrong?"

"Why are you treating Jess like that?"

I give her an exasperated look. "She at least could have _said_ something! Real or not, it would have been something to watch out for."

Willa's eyes soften. "Philby…" she says, unable to find words. "She—She didn't know, okay? She knows what power her dreams have. And did you see her last night? She was crying. As in, _sobbing._ Jess never cries. _Never._ If that didn't show you how regretful she is, then I don't know what will."

She walks off, her words cutting into me like a knife. I don't _want_ to be the bad guy here. As training goes on, Jess can't look any one of us in the eyes. The others have forgiven her, but there's definitely still anger in the air between us. As training goes on, we avoid each other. Although, I run into her at the knife throwing station. She throws each knife hard; sometimes penetrating the dummy so far the knife pierces through the other side. Jess has this look about her when she's heated—she stiffens up, she looks menacing, and her face contorts into a frown. Altogether, she looks like she could kill something right then and there. Her eyes glance over to me.

"You know, you could have told us no matter what," I say, half mad-half attempting to forgive.

She keeps on throwing the knives, ignoring me. I get pretty aggravated with her. After multiple attempts of trying to get her to speak to me, I go to a last resort.

"How's the knife throwing coming, _Jezebel?_"

She slams the knife that was in her hand down on the table and walks away briskly, hurt in her eyes.

Charlene passed Jess as she was walking over to me.

"What did you do?" obviously concerned for Jess.

"I…ah…" I didn't exactly _want _to tell Charlene that I called her "Jezebel" on purpose.

"Philby!" Charlene said, near frantic.

I gave a sigh. "I called her 'Jezebel.'"

"Why did you do that?!" she said, smacking me upside the head.

"She—She was ignoring me!"

"Oh, yeah. That's a great reason to do that. Good job, Philby!" she snapped at me sarcastically. I knew she was pretty mad since she never called me "Philby." She and all the girls usually called me nicknames like "Phil" "Philb" "Philbs" or, my least favorite, "Philbo".

"She got us all into this situation!" I say, now fuming.

"Really? You're _still_ hung up on that? You need to get your butt over there and apologize."

I look over at Jess. Of all people, _Maybeck_ was comforting her. _Maybeck_. They've had a sibling-type rivalry for the longest time, and were usually comical to the rest of us.

"Well, I'm not apologizing."

"If you're truly honest about that, which I doubt you are, then I can't help you there," she walks off, sad expression filling her face.

I can see that Willa's left the archery station and has come over to be with Jess. I walk over to where the rest of the Keepers are. As soon as I get over there, Jess excuses herself from the group.

"Well, bad news," Finn tells me. "She's not apologizing, either."

Amanda, surprisingly quick to forgive, holds no anger in her voice when she asks, "Why'd you call her that, Philbs?"

I shrug and shake my head. "I don't know. Spur of the moment, I guess."

"You know what's weird?" Maybeck quips, "It sounds like you two are dating, judging by this situation. I mean, you're fighting and you're like 'I'm not apologizing!'"

A small chuckle ripples throughout the group. "I think Willa'd be pretty mad if Jess and Philby were dating," Finn says.

"Would _not!_" Willa says, a blush tingeing her cheeks.

I give a small smile. "I'll do my best to apologize to her, but no promises."

We're dismissed from training to go back to our floors until tomorrow. I spot Jess on the way out and grab her shoulder.

"Jess, um…I just wanted to tell you that I'm—"

"I don't want to hear it, Philby. You said what you said, and I know you're mad at me, but I don't know what else you want me to say. What's done is done, so…" she trails off. Rob comes up behind her, and puts his arm around her, leading her to the elevator. She shrugs it off, walking now at a faster pace.

Willa and I meet up back on our floor with our mentor and escort for dinner.

"I tried," I tell her.

"I know you did. And I want to thank you for trying to make things right, even though both of you were wrong."

"How was Jess wrong?"

"She should have accepted your apology. I don't blame her for being mad, and I would have done the same thing as she, but you have to forgive and forget. I don't wanna spend these last few days fighting with each other."

"I know. I don't blame her, either."

"But, promise me, that no matter what, you'll keep trying to apologize? Even if she's still mad?"

I plant a small kiss on her forehead. "Promise."

**A/N: All done! This was pretty much just a filler chapter, and, you don't need to tell me, I know, I'm really not good at making people mad at each other. :P They'll probably make up next chapter.**

**Also, I didn't want Philby to seem the complete bad guy here. We all have those spur-of-the-moment little mean sparks in us sometimes *Thumbs up for angry Philby!* No? Ok, that works, too…**

**REVIEW! I'll give you a virtual cookie! (::) **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: So sorry I haven't updated in, like, three months. Been busy. Teachers be crazy… :P *also I've been obsessed with Newsies so…THEY'RE AMAZING!* Okay. Story time! I'm skipping to the interviews the night before the Games. So…I promise the story's gonna get better once we get into the actual Game-part of it…**

**ALSO! This story is between books four and five, it isn't based after the cruise. OKAY STORY TIME! :)**

* * *

Finn's POV

I stood backstage behind Amanda as we waited to have personal interviews with Caesar Flickerman. Willa and Philby were just ahead of us, anxiously fidgeting with their hands. Amanda stood tall, looking gorgeous as ever in a turquoise cocktail dress. She looked as if she had spaced out, which was unusual for her—she was always alert.

"What's wrong?" I asked her. Her head jerked as if she had just been woken up.

"Hmm? What? Oh, just…ah…nervous." She sounded a bit suspicious. I gave her a strange look, and she shook her head. "I'll tell you later," she whispered. I nodded.

Cato came off the stage just as one of the Capitol workers motioned for Willa to go onstage. "Good luck," Philby, Amanda, and I called to her. She gave us a weak smile. Her forest green dress sparkled under the stage lights. We turned our attention to a monitor giving us live feed of what was happening onstage. Willa sheepishly walked over to the chair by Caesar Flickerman. Caesar was an odd looking man with overly tan skin and bright white teeth. He wore a midnight blue sparkly suit with blue hair to match.

"Hello, Isabella!" he said.

Willa grinned. "Good evening, Caesar."

"How are you doing this evening, my dear? And, may I say, that dress is gorgeous!"

"I'm doing pretty well, and thank you! The stylists I have are great."

Caesar chuckled. "Now, tell me, Isabella, what will your strategy be in the arena tomorrow?"

Willa looked down at her shoes. "I'm just gonna find water, then do what's necessary to survive." The thought made me go rigid. We're going to have to _kill_ people. _Human beings._ Our lives have been at stake so many times with the Overtakers, but we never planned on _killing_ them. Lock them up? Sure! Give them a taste of their own medicine? Absolutely! They hadn't killed us yet, but, all of us knew that our death wouldn't be by the Overtakers. Most likely, we'd all be dead by the end of tomorrow.

"So, Isabella, you volunteered at the Reaping, yes?" Willa nodded. "That little girl you volunteered for—was she related to you? A close friend?"

"No. I…ah…I never knew her, or anything."

"Can you tell us _why_ you volunteered for her then? I mean, you could be at home, and—" Willa cut him off.

"Well, I couldn't just let her come here and die! It was her first reaping—she's just a little girl, and to have her life taken from her at such a young age from brutal murderers? That's awful. If someone ever did that for me, I would have been forever grateful."

Caesar nodded in approval. "And you were talking about how young she is." Willa nodded again. "You're not that much older—you're only fourteen."

"That's true, but I'd rather have my life on the line than hers."

"Well, that's quite noble of you."

The pair talked some more, mostly about how Willa excelled in the nature part of training. She knew all the edible and poisonous berries and plants by heart. The buzzer rang, indicating that Willa's two minutes allowed for her interview were up. She shook Caesar's hand and shakily walked off stage.

"Those were the most nerve-wracking two minutes of my life," she says as she passes Amanda and me, after wishing Philby good luck.

"You did great," Amanda stated while giving Willa a hug. I also gave Willa a small hug while giving Philby a thumbs-up before he was to go onstage.

"Our next tribute from District 3 is Dell Philby!" The crowd cheered as Philby walked onto the huge stage, adorned with thousands of flashing LED lights, and gave a small wave to the crowd. He gave Caesar's hand a shake, and then sat down in the same chair that Willa sat in.

"Welcome, Dell!"

Philby laughed. "Please, Caesar, call me Philby."

"Philby. Now, let's talk about your training score, Philby. An eight! That's pretty impressive! You and your district partner got the same score, yes?"

"Thanks, Caesar. And yes, Wil—I mean Isabella and I got the same score."

"Now, you two seemed inseparable at training for the past few days."

Philby looked around awkwardly. I turned around to look at Willa over in the area where you wait until interviews are done, and she was blushing.

"Well, I've known her for quite a few years. We've been classmates for a while, and she's special to me." The crowd "Awwe,"—d

Caesar raised his eyebrow. "So are you two…" he trailed off.

Philby gave a sad smirk. "Uh…ah…no. I never really told her, but I guess she found out now." I turned around again, and Willa is staring in shock at the monitor.

"Finally! The boy got some courage!" Jess exclaimed, drawing a laugh out of Maybeck and causing Willa to put her face in her hands.

"Well, I wish you best of luck with the Games tomorrow and, also, with Isabella." The two-minute buzzer sounded.

Caesar and Philby stood up. "Dell Philby!" Caesar proclaimed as the two shook hands.

I gave Amanda's hand a squeeze before she left. "You'll do great," I told her. A sad smile spread across her face. Caesar's voice boomed throughout the auditorium. "Let's hear it for our female tribute from District 4, Amanda Lockhart!" My palms started to sweat, nervous for Amanda and because I was up next.

"Now, Amanda, you're from District 4, and that's a Career district, isn't it?"

"Yes, Caesar, it is," Amanda sounded surprisingly confident.

"So are you going to join with the Career group tomorrow?"

There was a long pause before Amanda answered. "You know, they asked me about it the other day, and I'm going to take them up on their offer."

A million questions swirled around in my head, clouding my brain, making me unable to think. Amanda's a…_Career?_ I could barely bring myself to think this. All the Keepers stared in alarm at the monitor, most likely thinking the same thing I was. Well, everyone except Maybeck, who—having not read the books or seen the movie—didn't know what was going on.

"WHAT?!" Jess screamed from behind me. On the screen, Caesar's and Amanda's heads turned to stage left,—that's where we entered for interviews—most likely hearing Jess's shriek.

I was too shocked to listen to the rest of the interview. _She betrayed us._

Amanda walked backstage after the buzzer sounded. She wouldn't speak to any of us. Jess was threatening her as she walked by, and she just sat down next to Willa, looking straight ahead at the monitor.

"Please, let me hear it for the next District 4 tribute—Lawrence Whitman!" Caesar said passionately. I'm so nervous; I just about forgot to walk onto the stage. The lights blinded my eyes and the roar of the monstrous crowd was deafening. I awkwardly sit down in the infamous chair. Caesar sits back in his chair, sizing me up.

"How are you doing tonight, Lawrence?" I cringed at the use of my real name.

"So-so," I answered half-heartedly.

"So, we know your District partner, Amanda is going to be in alliance with Districts One and Two."

"Yup. She is," I spat out, heated at Amanda for her actions.

"Now, how about you, Lawrence? Will you join them?"

I took a deep breath. "No, Caesar, I'm not. They asked me, too, the other day, but I declined. I don't like how they kill for fun. It's sickening."

A collective gasp rippled throughout the crowd. Caesar made more small talk until my time was up. I was _not_ good at interviews. They made me shaky and I hate talking in front of people in the first place. We finally shook hands, and I could breathe again.

I wanted to go over to Amanda, to see why she chose to ally with the Careers. Sadly, I couldn't—she had left Willa to sit with them. The Careers were staring at me in disdain. Amanda stared at me with sad, solemn eyes. _I can explain_, she mouthed to me.

Jess was fuming. During my interview, I'd heard her _still_ screaming at Amanda. The look on her face said it all: she couldn't believe that her own sister was basically plotting to kill her. To kill us _all._ It's awful of me to say, but I didn't even want to hear Amanda's reasoning.

We waited until District 7's interviews, passing the time by watching the other interviews and strategizing for tomorrow and the weeks to come.

"District 7! Let's give our female tribute from District 7 a hand! Jessica Lockhart!" The audience erupted in thunderous applause. Jess sauntered up onto the stage.

"How are you, Miss Lockhart?"

Jess shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

"Do you feel prepared for the Games tomorrow?"

"Honestly, I don't know. Do I feel ready to kill people? No. But, do I feel ready to fight as hard as I can to stay alive? Heck, yes."

Caesar nodded, seeming to understand where Jess was coming from. "Well, I definitely wish you the best of luck." Jess gave him a half-smile, saying "thank you" in a way.

"The thing that I think is rather unusual is that you and Amanda, from District 4, have the same last name. Are you two related in some way? Know each other?"

Jess put on her best poker face, though I know she had to fabricate an answer somehow that didn't sound suspicious. "Oh, no, Caesar, we aren't related at all," Well, technically, this was the truth. "In fact, I don't know Amanda at all," Jess lied. "That's quite fascinating to me, as well. I didn't know that Lockhart was a common name." Caesar didn't question this. I guess she was a better actress than we thought.

"What is your strategy going to be tomorrow?" Caesar asked.

"Well, you know, my competitors are out there watching this, and I don't want to die tomorrow, so I'm going to keep quiet about that subject."

Caesar nodded in approval. "A smart girl."

The buzzer sounded, and the two stood up. "Jessica Lockhart, ladies and gentlemen!" They shook hands and Jess marched off stage.

"Ugh, can I take off this dress now?" I couldn't help but laugh. Jess didn't usually mind dresses that much, but when she was angry or cranky everything made her uncomfortable.

"I think you look hot in that dress," Rob said, giving her a wink. Jess stopped in her tracks. She turned around, furiously stomped over to Rob, and grabbed the collar of his shirt. She spoke softly, but I was close enough to hear her. "Listen now, and listen well—say I'm hot _one_ more time or so help me I will _kill_ you tomorrow in the bloodbath. You know I can hurt you—I've already done it once—so don't make me do it again. Are we clear?" She said this last sentence very slowly. My eyes bulged out of my head. I'd never heard Jess speak so violently—not even when she was threatening Amanda earlier. Rob didn't allow any fear to show on his face. He still had the same smug smirk as always. She let go of Rob's shirt as he was called onto the stage. Even on the screen, I saw his makeup-heavy left eye, where Jess had punched him earlier in training, claiming it was an "accident."

Jess came over to sit by me, since the seats by Willa and Philby were already taken up. I saw Willa trying to encourage Philby to come over and talk to Jess, since they still hadn't made up since he called her "Jezebel." Philby awkwardly walked over to Jess and me. "Um…_Jess_, can I talk to you?" he stuttered, putting emphasis on "Jess," since he hadn't said her name since the first day of training.

"I'll leave if you want me to," I told Philby, trying to take some pressure off him.

"No, it's okay. You can stay." I nodded.

"Yeah. What?" Jess said, speaking more meekly than angrily.

"Jess, I know that if you knew what was going to happen, you would have told us, and I understand that. I was stupid to hold a grudge and say those bloody horrible things I did. We're a family, all of us. Families fight. But I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow—I don't know if we're gonna live for a few days. But I don't want either one of us to be gone not knowing that I'm truly sorry for the things I said. Forgive me if you want, or don't. I just needed to get that out," Philby spoke sadly, slowly starting to walk away.

"Philby?" Jess whispered, standing up. Philby turned around. "Philby, I—I forgive you." They embraced each other for a quick second, hoping none of the other tributes saw them and became suspicious. "That was kinda awkward…" Jess said. The three of us laughed. "I don't wanna stay mad at you," Jess spoke to Philby. "But, really? _Jezebel?_ That really hurt."

"I know. It was rude, and I'm sorry."

"I am, too."

"Guys?" I said, not wanting to be impolite. "I don't want to break this up or anything, but Charlene's up for her interview."

"District 8! From District 8 is Charlene Turner!" The crowd cheered as Charlene, groomed from many years of pageants and modeling, strutted onto the stage, smile never faltering.

"She looks so pretty!" Willa, who had just now joined our small posse, said. Charlene had her hair curled and was in a dark burgundy dress that reminded me of a cupcake.

"Good evening, Miss Turner."

Charlene giggled. "Hi, Caesar!" It was unlike Charlene to act all bubbly and stupid. Willa said to me, "She'll get further ahead this way. If she acts like, well, this, people won't think she's a threat, they won't try to kill her, and then she can bust out her kick-butt Charlene attitude when the time comes." I nodded, now understanding.

"Tell me, do you feel prepared for the Games tomorrow?"

"I feel very prepared. Training was very helpful," Charlene gushed, _still_ smiling.

"Let's talk about your training score—an eight! That's quite good."

Charlene batted her eyelashes. "Thank you! It is quite good, considering I've had no fighting training at all before we got here in the Capitol." This sort of wasn't lying. Fighting Disney villains technically wasn't training—it was…_experience?_ The two talked more about training—mostly about weaponry and hand-to-hand combat, which were the things she did most at training. The buzzer sounded, and Charlene skipped off the stage, blowing kisses and waving to the audience. "Good luck," she mouthed to Maybeck as she walked over to us.

"Great job, sweetheart," Her mentor said as she passed him.

"Thanks," she said, giving him a genuine smile—not the fake ones she showed during her interview.

We all congratulated her for doing a good job up on stage.

"Someone's gonna get lots of sponsors!" Willa said in a singsong voice, elbowing Charlene in the ribs.

Charlene laughed. "Are you kidding? That was one of the worst interviews of my _life._ I will never act like that again, even if it _will_ save my life." She laughed again. "I felt _so_ stupid!"

"Stupid gets you sponsors if they feel bad for you," Jess inquired.

"True." We quieted down for Maybeck's interview.

"Our second District 8 tribute—the one, the only…Terrence Maybeck!"

Maybeck sat down in the chair.

"Our mentor told me to act stupid and for him to act tough and hostile, you know? Apparently it's gonna help us."

"So, Terrence, how was training over the past few days?"

"Okay."

"Let's talk about your score—you got a ten, correct?"

"Yes."

"And you were at the camouflage station for a large duration of training, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Do you have much experience in this area?"

"Uhhh…I don't know…" Maybeck's interview was a bit painful to watch. Sure, he'd been pretty hostile around us at times, but he was barely talking. I know, the mentors have been through this and _won_ this, but this seemed like it was getting him nowhere.

"Okay, how was weaponry? The Gamemakers thought you did quite well there. What weapon were you best at?" One of the great things Caesar did was make no one look awkward during the interviews. If he felt a topic wasn't going to work out, he changed the subject in hopes of making the person feel more comfortable.

"Sword. That one was pretty easy to pick up."

Caesar and Maybeck talked more about different weapons. Axes, knives, bows and arrows, sling shots filled up the subject of their conversation until the buzzer rang and Maybeck exited the stage.

"Well, that was fun," Maybeck sarcastically stated.

* * *

We just sat there until interviews were over, cherishing every last minute together. I saw Amanda sitting over with the Careers, looking over at us, trying to get our attention without being too obvious about it. Districts 1 and 2 wouldn't allow her any contact with us, claiming she was "one of them" now.

"Guys," Willa said. "We've come a long way, but we ain't there yet. Maybe it's only gonna get tougher from now on, but that's fine, we're just gonna get tougher with it. But also, we gotta get smart. We can't just go around hurting and killing these kids. That's just what the Capitol wants to see! That we're just pathetic human beings with no respect for anything, including ourselves. So here's how it is—if we don't act together, we're nothing. If we don't stick together, we're nothing. And if we can't even trust each other, then we're nothing. So what's it gonna be?" Nods all around. "So what do you say, Finn?"

A smile crept up on my face. "I say that whatever you say is what I say." I knew where Willa was coming from. I spit on my hand and held it out. She smiled, did the same, and we shook hands.

"Hey," Charlene said, "isn't that from—"

"Shhh," Philby said. "Just let it live for a moment."

* * *

**A/N: Okay, does 3,000 words make up for three months? Thought so…**

**REVIEW! Concrit greatly accepted and appreciated.**

**Can you find it, Mandy? A bit bigger than a sentence, but I figured it just fit :P**

**Special thanks to the Broadway cast of Newsies, whose CD distracted me to the point of singing along and forgetting to write. Love you guys… :)**

**ALSO! Guess what? I've been on fanfic for 364 days! Coolio… haha :)**


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